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Fynn Relmis

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  1. Shadows... voices... screams... pain. She had the dream again. Her master was not well. He screamed over and over in rage. His eyes issued forth fire and flame. He seethed on his throne in front of her, restrained in the darkness by something that couldn't be seen. Some bright chain that held him from her... he strained to rise, but always was he pulled back. "Liars... traitors... thieves!" Came his voice, dark and horrible and enraged. "Took what was mine and defile it with your hands... the blade was mine... always mine! You are unworthy! I will remove you from this world. I will crush your hope... I will burn you to ash and dance in the remains!" M'ruka heard him cry. "Kern... who... please tell me who?" M'ruka begged, unable to approach lest she be consumed. Kern did not reply... he simply continued to scream and rage. --- She awoke to hear the guards in the palace running to a disturbance at the front gate of the massive palace built to honor her long absent master. Outside, a storm raged, it was not an uncommon occurrence in this the small capital city of a world pulled from "the dirt" as Kern had put it. Her master had arrived on a world that was a backwater, a ball of dust and blood, where the locals had no technology, nothing but crude weapons and brutal tribal warfare. In short order he had abolished their old world, and ushered in his order. As a God, he did what he wished, striding the planet to pacify it. No resistance was tolerated, no rebellion unanswered with crushing force. Kern put down any who opposed him with brutal efficacy. Those who served him, and did his will prospered, those who opposed were vanquished... slowly and painfully. Sith god's were prayed too as well, Exodus, Faust, Ryu, names that were beaten into the minds of the younger generations as befitting veneration. Kern was a member of this grand order, M'ruka loved him desperately and still found herself wishing that he could have remained forever, but dreams do not last forever. Then, at the height of his power. He vanished. His power was still held in check by his acolytes. His high priestess Morrigal kept his name in the rituals, his soldiers still held sway over the planet. But rumors had started, the talk of his demise was not unheard. One or two pretenders had tried unsuccessfully to reclaim the planet, but Kern's influence was felt from afar. Had he been killed by his lust for vengeance some felt, others that he had other planets to tame and conquer. Some even questioned his godhood. What would happen to the planet if he remained away much longer? Morrigal had seen fit to keep her as a symbol of Kern's power. In truth however, she was paramount in her position. M'ruka felt she was more prisoner then ever before, and the child....Her child Aldra had been born a few months after he had left. The girl was small, but every bit the image of her father. The childs' bed across the grand residence was quiet, as the child slept in the comfort of many furs. M'ruka approached the small bed, and smiled lovingly at the child. "He will return, I know he will. Your father will return. Those who seek to thwart him will fail. I know it." --- "This is the freighter Halcyon II, on descent to Kesh. Respond Station 1?" The captain of the large freighter running illegal frieght to the small Sith outpost, asked calmly. On his screen a storm flashed in a vibrant display. The large Corellian blockade runner swooped low over the mountain ranges that ringed the capital city, surrounded now by industrial farms and factories, where the populace had only been living in thatched huts, large metal buildings and modern streets had emerged from the muck. Still the planet was not remarkable, no one came to Kesh that didn't know of it from the Sith archives, it was not a vacation spot. "Halcyon II acknowledged, stick to established landing route. Enter passcode." "Confirmed. Pass Code Kern-sigma-one-Faust." The co-pilot nodded to the captain, "I better go check the straps, that storm looks nasty." "Hurry, I don't want to be here long, this place gives me the creeps." The captain said back. The hold was full of containers from various underground suppliers to Sith forces across the uncharted regions. Careful to cover their tracks with blind jumps and jumbled transponders, freighters and smugglers made a pretty penny by supplying dormant places with the supplies they needed. This run was routine, save for the odd passenger from time to time. "Got a storm, might want to strap in." the co-pilot advised to the three passengers. Two of them obeyed immediately. The third was covered in a dark robe, only his heavy boots, and thick armored gloves remained without shroud. The figure in a dark robe said nothing at first, then moved to strap himself in as advised. Only one hand moved to obey the request, the other remained un-moved. "You uh... never mentioned payment." The co-pilot continued. "You will receive payment in full on arrival. Your assistance has been vital. Your pay will be considerable, trust me, I repay my debts." The man said with a simple quick statement. "Hey, you're the boss chief, why would you want to go to Kesh anyhow? Place is a mess if you ask me. Looks like some long gone Sith conquered it years ago. Ain't much here except a couple of training bases and some factories. Couple of nice statues...but otherwise unremarkable." The man said checking a random gauge at a nearby panel. "I have... unfinished business. Besides, aren't most places worthless balls of blood and dust?" The pilot nodded, and headed back to the small bridge. Looks are often deceiving... whole empires rise from the dust, as will I. He said to himself. He had almost nothing. Kesh was no longer truly his. It would have to be reclaimed. RelmCorp had folded, it's assets frozen. His estate on Corellia had been seized, his legacy further tarnished. No fortune, no weapons, no power save for the force that still animated him. The challenge was daunting, but his will was equal to the task. One thing he had learned in his time away was patience, cold calculating patience. Kern said sternly as he reached out with his gloved hand to adjust his cowl, as the ship hurdled towards his old home. So much had happened here... so much was about to.
  2. Thanks! This time I'll take my time and not rush into anything. Apologies will need to be made, bridges rebuilt, relationships reforged... chaos renewed
  3. I have returned... weaker and crazier then ever. But I'm back. There's something familiar about this place...like an old friend I haven't seen in a long time. Can time heal old wounds? I guess we will find out.
  4. Taking a break from the RP, besides real life headaches, this place is getting a little intense, rude, and real for this old one. I'd say its been fun for the short while that I've been back, but that'd be a lie. ( Chris message me on FB and we'll chat. )
  5. The shelter was little more than a hovel, Kern noted as he sat, dressing what wounds he could. It was the collapsed portion of what appeared to be a nursery school. Here and there were broken cribs, their shadows reflecting bar shaped patterns of shadows around as Alabast's fire burned in a ramshackled hutch at the far end of the room. The comm line was dead, but true to his word, the man had shelter, and even some food. Its quality was questionable, but Kern's hunger quickly overcame any sense of its dusty taste. He suspiciously regarded the water, but drank anyways, deciding that Alabast had no reason to poison him at least for the moment. He’d found an armature for an old medical droid, and using the lightsaber he did his best to fashioned a temporary replacement arm. He worked the metal with the force, shaping it to fit the vision in his mind. “What kind of name is Kern anyways?” Alabast said scratching words into a pad. “Family name… means sharp metal knife, or some such in the old Corellian.” Kern said as he looked over his stump again. He slammed the armature onto it. The large knife like metal protrusion was held in place by a primitive but effective sling. The jagged knife arm wasn’t opposable, but it was sharp enough to do serious damage to anyone within striking distance. The vicious jagged looking weapon was definitely form over function, but Kern decided it was good enough for now. “You’re Corellian?” Alabast said hovering over the desk. “Born and bred… mostly born. Old money, old power, nothing special.” “So you were royalty?” The man asked his writing continuing. "What I wouldn't give for a nice bacta bath right now. Maybe an old fashioned Corellian draft... single malt." Kern said musing about his past. "You a drinker?" Alabast asked, the man working on some sort of journal in the corner. "Not for a very long time. Never had much time for it. Always seemed to be something more important than my own desires." Kern said as he carefully tinkered with a small comm unit that remained mostly intact. "Then you sacrificed too much. Even a Sith lord should be able to take a break once and a while." "I'm not a-" "Yeah, yeah... I know." Alabast shrugged him off. The former Sith gun operator was crotchety as hell, the wrinkles in his Avanti face belied years of what have been arduous service. "So why didn't you die?" Kern said musing ironically. "You're wondering why I didn't kill myself when my lord died?" Alabast said continuing to write in the pale light. "Sith have a powerful influence over the-" Kern was cutoff mid-sentence. "Weak minded peons?" Alabast said and began to chuckle. "I was never much for being weak minded. My ship got hit on an attack run, Darth something or other bailed out, left the rest of us to explode. I thought, this is it... I'll die doing the bidding of the mighty Sith empire.”, He said mockingly. “My pilot on the other hand had other ideas. He pushed me out before the ship exploded. I fell and landed in some rich folk’s garbage, soft old pillows, and flower decorations...the force-" "Screw the force, you just got lucky. Don't lecture me about the force old man, I've known it, felt it. It tortures me, haunts me, even 'till now. It loves to play tricks on us all, reverse fortunes, burn the arrogant, crush the self-assured, reward the unworthy." He said this as he began to fiddle with the broken comm device with one good hand. "Maybe, but force or no, I made it. So I kept my head low, and stayed out of the way. 'Till you came along." "You're welcome. Now as soon as I'm ready, I'll be making way back out of this...hell." Kern turned his head, going back to his work amidst the nursery ruins. "That's it? You're just going to leave?" Alabast said getting up in a bit of a huff. "I tried to kill my old master... I failed. Clearly this isn't the time to finish the job. By now she'll have back up, and considering the audacity of my attack it won't be long until they'll come looking for me. I plan to be long gone by the time the Calvary arrives." Kern said in a tone that was overly sober. "So you lose and then run, typical-" Alabast said derisively. "I'm stupid, but not insane. Besides I don't remember needing your permission. I have things to do, people to eviscerate. The force will not be making me its bit- "Who do you serve?" The man asked suddenly, his voice sounding a bit like an old Sith soldier. "What?" Kern was caught off guard. "Who... do... you... serve?" "I served the will of Lord Furion, I was his slave, but now I will fulfill my own will, and that is all you need to know." "Seems like you more his bit-" Kern reached out with the force violently, grabbing the man's throat and lifting him skyward in a moment of rage. "I promised not to kill you. So I won't. Don't make the mistake of thinking that I won't beat you to within an inch of your so-called life and break every miserable bone in that old wrinkled corpse you call a body. Clear?" Kern said, his voice filled with malevolence and anger. "C..clear." The man said as he struggled for breath. Kern dropped him, turning his attention back to his tinkering with cold regard to the man as he struggled to regain his breath. "Yeah... you're a Sith alright. Or at least you're trying very hard to be." Alabast said clearly not caring that much about Kern's threat. "Sith, Jedi... these are just titles. Truth is the labels don't mean that much to the rank and file folks down here. That's because you are beneath us. Ant's don't care much for what does the squishing. Trust me, I've worn booth boots." Kern said as he finally got the unit working. "So that's what we are? Ants?" "No... you're much more. People are the reason the Sith and Jedi will never have peace. For as long you exist... there will be conflict. That is your purpose, to make war... and I love every moment of it." "So what's your grand plan, how are you going to win?" Alabast asked confused to what Kern was saying. "Oh come now... I have no plans to do something so prosaic as "winning". Besides I won't be sharing my plans with you.... let's just say if I happen to rule a fair bit of the galaxy before the end, that would be fine too. I want half the galaxy trying to kill the other half..." "Eons ago our galaxy had beings that shaped the very future, powerful beings that created our existence. They held sway, the very stars themselves were there playthings, and nothing was outside their grasp. That sort of power will be mine, one way or the other. Now… killing my old master and everything she cares about? That would be a definite bonus." "You're... you're insane. You can't-" "Shut it. I don't need you anymore... you're just a vision of me. A sort of make shift reality, created by my shock at losing. But I'm over it... and over you. " " The man went silent, strangely unable to speak. Kern snapped the comm unit to life. He entered in a coded signal in a Keshiri dialect, and sent it. The machine blinked back an acceptance of the code and within moments the communication was relayed through a series of reception units. To anyone not knowing who the signal was from or the language that it was written in, Kern’s message would be nothing more than garbled noise. "What, was that?", Alabast said looking towards Kern. "My ticket off this wretched planet." Kern said as he laid back on a deteriorated couch. Alabast disappeared, blowing away like so much smoke as Kern’s mental image of a possible futures faded away, as he focused on the present.
  6. Falling was not something to be enjoyed... of this Kern was certain. In the bowels of Coruscant, a homeless Anzati looked up from his trash rumagging to see a small figure falling to what appeared to be certain death. He studied the falling person, wondering who would be dumb enough to find themselves in such a fashion. The wind, the impending death, the feeling of falling itself. Still in comparison with dying an ignominious death at the hands of his former master, it was the best he option he had available. As ground rushed up towards, him, angled himself towards the corroding foundation of a nearby building. The structure itself flared out towards it's base, the pyramidal structure ending at the molten core of the lower crust of Coruscant. Reaching out with urgency, Kern pulled himself towards the building. Pulling the saber from his tunic with the one good hand, he concentrated, activating it with force, he sliced into the corrosion. The saber protested, but the slow scrap sliced downwards with heavy resistance, the force decelerated his fall, and his body slammed against the building. His arm dislocated, but despite the pain, he held strong, using it to further anchor himself and increase his power. His mask came free and fell into the depths, as Kern's body finally came to a sparking stop, as the saber dug deeper into the metal. Here a few stories from a polluted street, Kern hung from one dislocated arm. "You know there are easier ways to get to the lower levels son." Said the old homeless Ryloth. Kern nodded, then deactivated the saber, dropping himself the final height. Landing in a trash heap, Kern took a moment to see how far he had fallen, and take stock of his injuries. He was bleeding, albeit the wounds were mostly superficial. The worst was the missing limb. He looked down on the cauterized stump below the elbow. Damn... i liked that hand. He thought before moving on. The small dart that had pierced through him, had left a small amount of tissue damage, and every move confirmed he was still bleeding internally. His shoulder still disjointed hurt the most, but there was little question that his pride hurt all the more. Skye was still alive, and with attack spiraling out of control, he was sure now that he would be a wanted man. Stupid, He thought to himself. He'd rushed the confrontation, misjudged the vulnerability of Coresec, and lost nearly everything. But he had no time to wallow in the vagaries of his loss. Still no images of his face were given away, as his mask and vocalizer would keep a level of anonymity. With his scars, and facial wounds, it would be difficult for his old Jedi images to match his present face. Still he would risk nothing to chance. Pulling himself free of the dumpster, Kern leaned heavily against its side. Breathing slow painful breaths, he steeled himself. He slammed his body shoulder first into the heavy metal container. He bellowed in pain, but the joint refused to be reset. He then put his elbow between the container and a nearby wall, wedging it tightly, he slammed his body forward again, this time he screamed loud enough to echo into the night, but the joint was finally back in place. Kern slid down, his sweat mingling with the blood that covered his body, his muscles trembling in the faint light of the one or two street lamps still functioning. The homeless man approached cautiously looking at the newcomer with curiosity. "You... jedi? No... um...Sith, am I right?" He asked, as kept his distance. "Neither... just a fool...trying to destroy other fools." Kern replied the depths of his loss sinking in. "You... you gonna kill me?" "Why? Do you need a proper killing?" Kern asked, looking around for his saber, realizing it was clutched in the old mans' hands. "Oh no, just if you were going kill me, I wanted know so I could prepare myself. Names Alabast." The main tossed him the saber, keeping a weather eye on him. "Death isn't always so sudden you know?" Kern said pulling a old tattered cloth from the trash, knocking loose a rat that scampered off. It smelled foul, but it was better guise then walking around shirtless. Kern pulled it over himself being sure to cover his face in the shadow of the tattered rags. "No... and yes." The homeless anzati replied. "Tell you what, i need shelter, a comm line, and a meal. You find me one of those three, and I wont kill you. Find me two and I'll reward you." "How do i know you won't kill me anyways? You Sith are always killing people." The Anzatian replied. "Because I'm an honest man, besides, what have you got to lose?" Kern said sardonically, his battered face managing a smile. "My life for starters. Alright, fine. Just keep your pants on, got a shelter a few blocks from here, and maybe even a comm line." The man said as hobbled away. "Excellent, now I can't kill you. It's a tidy arrangement." Kern responded. He needed to start somewhere, and bottom seemed like a good a place as any. --- Alabast was a short man, the two tendrils extending from his face twitching every few moments. Kern could tell he knew a lot more then he let on, only speaking when it suited him. He would answer questions with short non-specific answers, and what little info he gave up told Kern nothing. Still Kern sensed the darkside about him. "You know the Sith... don't you?" Kern said after they'd walked a certain distance in the dull and dank conditions of the lower levels. "A bit. I fought for them once." He declared, all at once. "A soldier..." "No, just a lowly gunnery operator." "How did you-" "You ask too many dumb questions to be a full Sith. Pretty stupid to attack when you did, given how tight and pissed off Coresec 'been recently. You ain't no lord, and you just lost, so I wouldn't be putting on airs." The man said dismissively. "I can still kill you, you know." Kern said, his anger rising at being lectured. "Son, when you're my age, death ain't a real threat, it's a neighbor who sneaks in every night waiting for right moment to slit your throat." He said bitterly. He turned back to the way they were going and forged ahead. Time slipped by, as Kern struggled to keep up. "How do you know I lost?" Kern asked slightly sheepishly. Wondering if his very demeanor had changed, or if the fight had somehow been broadcast despite his best efforts. "The freshly severed limb gave it away." The old man turned and showed him his left limb from under his cloak, where instead of a hand, a cheap metal replacement had been fashioned. "You ain't the only one lost himself a good scrap. Now, no more talking, this areas dangerous, got to many people and not enough food." The man said bitterly, and continued on, Kern on his heels.
  7. This... a million times this. There are tons of ways to interact... fighting... shooting and killing are just the tip of the interaction iceberg. There's talking, scamming, cheating, double crossing, bartering, trading, encouraging, discouraging, enticing, bribing, seducing, suckering, allying just to name a few. There are so many instruments at the disposal of the head of a faction it boggles the mind. You could try to take Coresec in a dystopian direction, pushing your philosophy of war=peace, and constant vigilance through surveillance, and it would foster a great deal of interaction and stories. I love this thought, because it is exactly what the leader of a dystopian government would say. Dystopian's don't care about what is lawful or good or preserving life, they care about preserving control no matter the cost. Who cares about a few dead innocents as long as the message was sent. They might not even call them innocents, they'll call them sacrifices, or noble losses. Words like justice and peace mean exactly the opposite for their purposes. As always these are just some thoughts, as HOT mentioned, this is just a discussion on the topic of what direction you feel Coresec should go. It is not a condemnation of your ideas, but rather just an airing of some differing opinions in a civil manner about the nature of good and evil... Here is a vid that goes a little deeper into some of the themes that we discussed.
  8. Your making a lot of assumptions here based upon others behavior. Baron Kern (the actual name of my character at the moment which everyone keeps missing somehow) has never taken hostages before. It's not usually his style. You can't know the outcome in every scenario, I might have let the hostages go in exchange for allowing me kill (or at least attempt to kill) my old master. Your amorality might have come in handy in a negotiation with a sith. In the past I know there were sith that would kill things just to watch them die, and I grew bored of them rather quickly. My characters always have motivations and reasons for doing what they do, as do most of the other players here. A simple gesture of communication can change the course of a conflict. An agent died... Ok. But why, how, who, what do they want, can we give them what they want? You cannot assume that every character who is sith will behave the same way, doing that underlies the reason we have characters. You might have been able to strike a deal with Kern, considering what he really wanted was within your power to grant. You might have been able to take advantage of the situation, touted your remarkable ability to make deals for the benefit of the people even with the sith. Your character is a beauracrat, a poltician... you make deals, shake hands. Your power is much more then soldiers and weapons. It's reason and intrigue, corruption and guile. Motivations vary from attacker to attacker, that's why negotiation when possible is so effective. Skye was able to treat with various Sith over the years, because of negotiations and truces. Now there are sith who cannot be reasoned with, whose only allegiance is to chaos and destruction. But that isn't all sith, the same with black sun agents and mercenaries. You can't change the nature of the sith, but you can foster better relations with those sith who are willing, and you might even create a safe space for the civilians if you do deals that put you in a better position with each faction. If you're going to be amoral or flexible with what is right and wrong, you could use it to create some very interesting gray areas. Lastly your soldiers have to be able to think for themselves. In the recent scenario, an unarmed shuttle was blown to bits next to a hospital with no thought to civilan casualties at all. There are orders which make sense to someone in an office crunching numbers, but no moral field agent would follow. If you order them to do whatever it takes then they have to know what you actually mean. Blowing up hostages to stop hostages from being taken is like eating hotdogs to stop people from eating hotdogs. There are always more and you've just made yourself sick. I'm not telling you that you can't run a shoot first ask questions later sort of agency, but in the short run people will die, and in the long run people will die. If you run an ends justify the means style force, you'll end up being exactly like the people you want to stop. The only difference will be that you have badges.
  9. Said by every evil tyrant in the history of the world. Your post is a really long explanation of amorality. You could have just said Coresec is amoral now. It's all well and good to try to fix the problem of evil guys being evil, but if the end result is you causing more death and destruction then the bad guys, you really cross over into a dystopia. Now I'm all for a dystopia setting wherein good means bad, and evil is good. But I think the king of wakanda said it best. Victory at the Expense of the innocent, is no victory. You aren't fighting a war right now, your fighting a terrorist group and criminals. If you want to run Coresec like it's world war 2 and you're a blue colored Churchill, that's your call. I only had concerns that it seems counterproductive to the goal of any civilian defense opertion... namely saving lives in the here and now. Negotiation is still the first tactic that any realistic law organization uses. Your orders turned what was twelve thugs searching for a jedi, into a full scale disaster, and I know for certain that it hasn't changed my characters willingness to take hostages. Perhaps you'll cause more of what your trying to stop... But hey its a big wide rp out there, you do you.
  10. Kern fumbled against the wall of the darkened lobby, desperately searching for a way out. He could feel the approach of the Coresec security agents. He was unarmed, in more ways than one, the pain of burnt stump still crackling with the burnt embers of the cloth and flesh. He centered himself, concentrating on the darkside, using it to recover his senses through the pain. He pawed forward, finally coming to a small opening, some sort of shoot near a nurses station. Working the manual controls with his good arm, the door opened. Looking back to the room, he spotted his Krayt saber, and reaching out with his good arm he used the force to pull the deactivated saber to him. He tried to activate it, but his hand was still not fully under his control, his fingers refusing to obey the commands from his mind. The fight was over, despite his desire to continue, he no longer had the strength, and the force was no longer with him. He stowed the saber back in it’s place, tucked securely to his form. “Why? Why do you hate me?” Kern heard his master say aloud. He was stunned, could she not see? Was she truly so blind? "Because... you lack the will to be what you are... to do what must be done. You and those like you spread lies and pervert the galaxy with your very existence... we are beings of immense power. You grovel in the dirt like a worm, healing finite creatures that aren’t fit to lick the soles of our boots. We should be ruling this galaxy together… Skye." Kern growled, the pain of his injury making each word a grimace, each syllable marked with excruciating pain. "-and I swear by all the force, by every star burning infernally in the darkness of space, on every ounce of blood boiling in my veins…the day is coming when you will look up at me and tremble. Darkness is coming for you all Skye... and that right soon.” Kern spat, his last words trailed off, his exhaustion and wounds finally taking it’s toll on his voice. He smashed the gauntlet on his remaining right hand against the wall, breaking it. --- Outside the hospital, U’mbaro still kept up his fire, running towards what he was certain was freedom. He turned a corner and ran smack dab into several Coresec agents. Raising his rifle to fire, he stopped, feeling something was wrong, before he could even make a sound, his body split apart a highly explosive charge in his sternum blasting out with deadly force, the fireball was large, and shrapnel flew about with abandon. In the hospital body after body of the Keshiri exploded much the same way, the bombs exploding with impunity, as the signal from Kern’s gauntlet winked out. It had been tied to him, for if he expired, they would all be taken with him. They had no knowledge of the devices however, Kern had made certain of that. There would be no evidence of their existence, no bodies to be poured over by curious and clever detectives. They were the epitome of disposable, and so they died ignominious deaths, with no one to sing their songs. All except one. Unconscious, but close to death, L’thara’s device didn’t activate, It having been damaged by the collapse of the building. The last survivor of Kern’s elite guard lay within the rubble, her life seeping away with each drip of her blood. --- Kern shot his old master one last look, one last salvo of anger and rage, but now it included fear and just a flicker of regret... just as he tipped backwards into the shoot. His body barely fitting into the shaft he tumbled from view. The shaft angled into a steep incline, and Kern’s tunic was violently torn from his body on the sharp angles and ridges. He felt every abrasion, ever cut, as he fell for what seemed like an eternity. I have failed you my lord… Kern said to himself. Seconds passed, his body continually pummeled by the sides of the long shoot. Pieces of flesh tore from his body as the jagged edges of the metal shoot continued to impact him. Then he felt the temperature begin to change, below him, he spotted a light, but this was no daylight… Behold Gehenna… my last refuge. There below burned the fires of the disposal unit of the hospital, where medical waste and other unmentionables were burned in a fiery abyss of the fusion generator. He considered allowing himself to enter the void of existence, slipping the bonds of the mortal coil, to feast forever in the hell of others nightmares, to rid himself of all that held him in bondage… including his battered and now bloodied body. No… I have only not succeeded, my task remains. Kern had to act, and quickly. Within moments he would be burnt into a Sith meat pie… and there would be no special sauce with this order. He gradually slowed his momentum with the force, pushing back as he concentrated his rage and anger at his loss into a will to survive. I will not die here…my task is unfinished, my enemies still stand. My revenge will never be slaked. Jamming what was left of his arm and other limbs, kern came to a dead stop. The temperature at this level was in clearly not meant for humanoid survival. The fire below raged on, and if he didn’t die of his wounds, he would surely be cooked alive. The saber was out of the question, it was taking everything he had to keep himself steady. Besides which he hadn’t gained the fine motor control he would need to activate it, let alone use it. He could however still make a pretty convincing fist. He slammed his fist into the nearby metal panel… the panel dented but didn’t budge. This is what I am now… He slammed forward his fist again and again, raging at the metal object in his way. This is what I have become… a blunt and broken weapon. Each blow brought back feelings and memories of his betrayal by the Jedi. Each simpering emotionally laden moment was like a fiery coal that lay upon his mind. But I am not done. I will be re-forged. Another strike caused his knuckles to begin to bleed, but still he pressed on. Feeling bone meat steal, and neither would budge/ There are no walls I cannot break through… The next blow hurt even more, but Kern stowed it away, building a reservoir in his mind of the sensation, but refusing to allow it to hold him back. I will fall a thousand times… and I will never be defeated. The metal panel was buckling now, and Kern could sense it’s integrity lower, his freedom was close at hand. I will- Before he could strike again, the shaft broke, bent and fell sideways by his weight, and jerked his body free like so much garbage. Kern, half naked, bleeding, scarred, and disarmed was tossed into the lower levels like a ragdoll… -probably regret not carrying a parachute. (exit to the lower levels)
  11. They just revealed the new title! http://io9.gizmodo.com/star-wars-episode-viii-is-star-wars-the-last-jedi-1791512987 Ok, I'm excited now.
  12. Kern stood over Skye, and for just a moment, he could hear the sounds of his saber smashing down, again and again. He smiled, feeling at last It was over. I am power, I am might, I am... unarmed? Kern looked down too see his own arm still clutching the activated saber as it hummed against the durasteel floor, sparking and creating gouges in the pattern from the still depressed activation button. He looked towards the place where his arm should have been as the blade deactivated. Where there had been a powerful limb surging with life, readying to remove that of his master's, there was now only a short burnt stump that sort of just ended just below the joint. He articulated the joint, looking at the burnt stump. "Oh-" Kern said aloud, his voice through the vocalizer shallow and empty. The gloating tones replaced with shallow breaths. The dart had punctured his midsection, and now he was bleeding to. Despite the effects of the poison, Kern new that within moments the pain would come. It was then a millisecond later that the pain arrived. Carried through his nerves in some sort of delayed reaction that made him fall to his knees, and then on to his stomach. His mind cried out through the force for help, a reflex to the sudden shock of dismemberment. Panic, confusion, anger. "Aaaa-ggh-!" ,he howled as the pain finally arrived. Each instant brought a new echelon of emotion and physical pain. "You-, my-, how-" He kept trying to speak, but he was still in shock. The words came out half formed, rage and pain melting together in half spoken phrases. It was over, he'd failed... again. Skye still lived, still survived, all he had fought for fell to dust. There would be no ascension, no glorious triumph. Kern tried to scrounge on the ground in the dark in vain for his arm, for his weapon, the magnitude of his failure washing over him, overcoming his frail sanity. He grew desperate, seeing Skye was still armed, and the effects of the poison yet to take hold. The toxins invading her body would take a while to paralyze her, if they worked at all. It occurred to him that she might be able to counter the effects given time. He had to run... to flee. The disgrace didn't matter, survival was paramount. "You haven't won, I-it's my destiny. You-" Kern said, flailing, unable to gather even the strength to push himself off of the ground with what was now his only arm. It didn't work, and Kern succeeded only in rolling on to his side. He concentrated trying to move his injured arm, but he could barely get it to open the clenched fist. How... how could he have lost? "You cannot-, I am sith, I am power, you are-" Kern struggled to lean himself against a nearby desk, trying to focus on the force to help him to stand. He had underestimated her power, or over estimated his own. It was then that U'mbaro crashed into the lobby area. He'd managed to smash his way through a auxiliary room door, and now came face to face with a wounded floundering Kern. "Good... U'mbaro, excellent timing. First, kill her, then you must-" Kern began speaking an order that man would understand, but he could feel something had changed. The beast of a Keshiri male looked him over. In seconds he turned his face from Kern to looting the unconscious body of the Coresec swat member, grabbing lustily for his heavy repeater blaster, and several grenades, arming himself and ignoring his emissary. "U'mbaro? I'm giving you a command!" The man's empty gaze back at him showed Kern utter disrespect. Any warrior who needed help was not worthy of leadership according to the traditions of Kesh. Apparently U'mbaro felt this extended to him as well. The man saw the entrance and made for it, shirking any oath or hold that Kern had over him. He looked back once more. Saying the Keshiri word for loser...'omadsiz' and spitting on the ground in a final act of defiance. It was the height of disrespect, for a leader to be spat at. It meant Kern was dead to U'mbaro. "Y- you... sniveling worm, I brought you from the muck, I elevated you to my elite guard, you would dare-" Kern tried to reach out with the force, but he wasn't fast enough. and the string he could always pull wasn't there, something had gone wrong. He'd lost his connection with the Keshiri. He was too weak to keep the mental influence going. The large man left as he came, in a hurry, with nothing tethering him to his senses. "You! You did this to me... didn't you? Some sort of trick... you contemptible-" Kern spat at Skye angrily, propelled himself backwards, managing to keep himself from flopping on the ground a second time. His balance was off, the weight of his body now uneven. --- U'mbaro charged out of the front entrance, his panic evident, and began firing bolts towards the gathered police force. His mind still confused by the blast of fear Kern had submitted him to. He didn't even bother to find cover, such was the lack of control the large Keshiri was experiencing. He needed to flee, and he would do anything to continue running. --- Kern tried to gather himself, but the pain was too great. The shock began setting in, accompanied by light effects of blood loss from the dart, he was no longer in shape to fight anyone. "This...isn't over." Kern said bitterly, biting into lip every so often to try and remember the pain. He fed on it, but his mind was unsettled, his connection with the darkside weakened. He lumbered with force now, unable to focus due to his new deformity. Unable to retrieve his blade, as it sat under Skye's protection, and his other in her hand, He backed away. Reaching the wall, he edged along it, the fear of being at his old master's mercy, chief in his mind. "You... you can't kill me, you're weak...you're nothing!" Kern said suddenly fearful. He tried to stall for time, as he reached out with the force searching for an exit, any means to extricate himself from judgement. There had to be a ventilation shaft, some means of connection to the power systems that fed all buildings on Coruscant. He just had to find it. He dug deeply for determination, for any strength, yet all he could find was more anger, all that he pulled forward was unbridled hate.
  13. It was working, he could feel the fear rising in the weak minded, and then all at once, it began to withdraw… What… what is this!? He could feel his work being undone, reaching out he tasted the source. It was her... it was- Hope!?… You really believe the lies you spin don’t you? You really think- Skye was trying to undo what he had done. But she was too late for most… once fear was born, it would take more than positive feelings to overcome. He knew he could easily counter it, but it was then that he felt a numbing feeling in his arm, a searing beam of light attacking his very being. He turned his attention to regaining control… but nothing happened, his arm fell useless at his side, and he watched as the smaller blade dropped from it's grasp. He growled cursing his masters handiwork. "You worthless, insignificant-" Kern felt the attack coming, but Skye was too fast. Her weight landed squarely on his back, and he flew forwards several meters crashing through a series of metal and ceramic statues depicting smiling doctors and nurses cradling an infant. His vocalizer still hid his face, but the mask was cracked, and the jagged edges had cut his chin. The blood flowed down his pale neck, as he forced himself to stand. As he tried to recover, he could feel the devastation above, the increasing loss of life, the silencing of souls and the despair of the living. The wave of death reinvigorated his power, like a fire to his soul. The carnage, the death, all were that on which the dark side feasted, gave him power. Still she had done something, his left arm was weakened. The supposed healer had done the opposite of her stated craft. There it was… the height of hypocrisy, the unmitigated gall of his old master. Again she displayed utter contempt for the natural order. She was failing, despite her best efforts the dark side still grew. “Can you feel it Skye?… I can feel them, through this body... the voices screaming together, begging for order, for strength, for salvation from the void.” Kern said his power surging through his body, each nerve ending still functioning feeling the heavy weight of the dark side of the force. His mind was clear, his goal in front of him. No more distractions, no more waiting… this was his time. “You’re always trying, but you know you will fail them all… eventually they are consumed, and you stubbornly continue on... it’s pathetic.” Kern said through his vocalizer. "Death, fear, pain, those are the natural order. You think because you patch flesh, and bake cookies, that the galaxy will reward you, when nothing could be further from the truth. Look at yourself, the Jedi have betrayed you, hiding in their temples, making peace with their mortal enemies who very soon will swallow them all. Your friends and family have abandoned you, even your temporary allies feed the darkside with their malevolence… all that remains is the truth. All that remains is me. Darkness… is the only truth. You don’t matter, you never did, and you never will despite all your healing, all your light, all of it will fail, Just as you failed with your precious Fynn." He said as his mind fed her a vision of Fynn’s body splayed open, floating in waters of Kamino all those years ago, the faces of the dead Jedi on Ilum. He drew on more anger and rage, fueling his power, but now his connection and control over the Keshiri let him drink deeply of their deaths. Kern drew the second saber to back to him with the aid of the force. “My powers have only begun to grow, and already I'm beyond you. My arm may be useless… but it’s funny, I don’t need both of them to end you.”, he said with a ironic lilt to the vocalizer which gave way to a laugh. The deep rumbling bass of his laughter twisted and distorted into a haunting echo that emanated outwards seemingly louder and more monstrous with each moment. The second blade then snapped back to life, and rose to be suspended in midair. The sickly pale yellow blade angled on it’s own into an aggressive stance, mimicking Kern’s own brutal fighting style. This was an ability that as Jedi he could have never achieved. The blade was not simply an extension of his arm, it was the force of his will. It was the embodiment of his anger, and rage; an outward manifestation of every malevolent warrior Kern had defeated. The blades speed and strength only determined by his connection to the dark side, and the limits of Kern’s reach. The blade slashed towards Skye, as did Kern, launching into a series of attacks that were precise, powerful and most importantly distracting. For as she defended herself, a small dark tendril gripped one of the darts that Kern had brought, with incredible speed, the dart went flying off, controlled seemingly by yet another malevolent force that Kern had conjured in his on-going onslaught. The small, centimeter in diameter, dark metal dart spiked with the toxic concoction that Kern had skillfully prepared, slipped through the air with increasing speed, finally it slammed with breakneck speed towards Kern’s back. This was a move that Kern knew that Skye would never expect, her desire to heal would never allow her to conceive of this action. Slicing easily through his un-shielded abdomen, the tiny dart slowed only momentarily, and then out again, continuing at full speed until it entered into Skye’s chest amidst their struggle. It pierced arteries around her heart, spreading it’s poison inexorably outwards burying deep into her core. The moment had arrived, Kern knew that this was it, his victory over her was now assured, regardless of the outcome, her fate was only a matter of time. All the simmering rage and hate was unleashed in one moment as he struck out with the Krayt blade, the force of the blow was carried with all his strength, slicing downwards through at her saber and cutting into her shoulder with authority. The resulting blow caused her to fall backwards, her saber knocked from her grip, while a small charred gash was visible in her clavicle area. Kern approached his wounded master now, smelling the victory, and savoring every last moment of it. The sickly pale blade now no longer needed, fell to the ground behind them, it’s mission complete. The dark form of Kern loomed over Skye, preparing the final strike, the blow that would usher his name into the ledger of Sith Lord’s, a new power, no longer to be ignored and derided. "It’s over, you are beaten. I would ask you to join me, but perhaps you're too far gone to be worthy. But, I promised you my name... remember? I’m nothing without my word.” He said as he savored the pain she was in. Watching as her face reflected the panic and fear that he was soon to inflict upon her precious Jedi order, and the galaxy at large. Kern, came the name through the force, loud, defiant, Triumphant. Skye would remember the name as Fynn's older brother, but her old apprentice never spoke of him in detail. “Now, for my last gift to you… arrogant fool… oblivion!” He said as he raised the red blade above his head with his good arm, readying to chop his old master into messes. (3) Rev'd for grammar.
  14. Kern recoiled as the slash of Skye saber caught him in his left gauntlet. The burn was deep and he felt the excruciating sensation in an instant white hot flash. He wasted no time recovering and as Skye moved to follow up on her successful attack, Kern sprung the first surprise he could muster. Pivoting on his left foot, Kern turned with blazing speed producing another saber from his right side, the smaller blade snapped to life, and sliced dangerously close to his former masters face. The sickly pale yellow saber was a precisely balanced instrument, a surgical scalpel compared to the heavy broadsword of the Krayt blade. The move was an aggressive one, a move to cause his opponent to think twice before pressing any advantage she might have momentarily felt. Kern renewed his attack then, wordlessly taking pleasure in going at her with continued violent blows. Now the jeopardy she faced had doubled, as Kern's skill with two lightsabers was nearly in parity with his true strength. He showed no signs of slowing, but rather He lunged forward, pressing the attack through the shattered lobby. He began to feel the panic of the surrounding citizenry, the fear his attack was causing continued to feed him. Each pang of distress, each unexpressed instance of anger and fear compelled him to strike harder and faster. Kern could feel the dark side grow in him as he concentrated on his hatred for Skye. Each moment of rage unveiled another moment of degradation at her hands, the denial of his true strength. She had cowed him, mislead him down of path of the great lie of the Jedi. Here she was again, standing in the path of his greatness. Now it was her turned to be exposed to the truth, to strip her of her armor, to break her and show once and for all that the darkside was no mere obstacle to be overcome, but rather the true source of strength that she had denied him. As he prepared to continue the onslaught, he felt it, interlopers, the approach of lower beings and their meddling. The flesh drones that had the temerity to attempt to rule themselves now tried to interrupt his revenge had returned. The explosion was far enough away to leave them unscathed, but Kern knew that their addition to combat would make his position untenable. Kern caught Skye again as she tried to fend of an attack from the side, this time, he managed to slam his elbow into the back of her head, causing her to slam violently forwards into a nearby decorative display celebrating light day. Kern wanted badly to follow up this attack, but there was no time, he had to keep any outside interference from ruining his victory. Finally Kern broke the incessant attack, leaping backwards into the air, landing near the front entrance, Kern reached forwards, felt the approaching swat team and took a moment to curse the very air itself. He began using a technique that Morrigal had shown him in his many hours of training on the isolated world of Kesh. Moving his hands to influence the force in the surrounding area, Kern concentrated all the fear of various wards nearby, fear of death, of loss, of pain, and isolation, his own fear added to the potent cocktail, all the years of his haunting time on Hoth, the absolute depths of despair and darkness he had known as a Jedi but had tried to subdue without success.... all that he had felt in the cold dark of night, or in the heat of the caves fear of the Krayt beasts of Kesh...all of it radiated outwards in all directions, most immediately at the approaching Coresec Swat members. In the corner of his eye he spotted a far off camera crew, even though they would never see it through his mask, he smiled, reveling in the horror he was about to unleash in the innocent minds of the weaklings in front of him. The Jedi would never know the power he could feel coursing through his mind and body at this moment. Fear...unmitigated, unreasoning, unyielding FEAR! Kern's mind screamed as it carried the mental message as images, frightful things poured into the minds of the unsuspecting squad. Jedi, who trained to master their fears, could overcome this, but to the unhardened minds of the Coresec forces, and his own Keshiri it wasn't so easily warded off. Kern had seen the bravest of Kesh brought low by the action. Only the very sturdiest of minds could resist, and even then they weren't completely immune to nagging feelings of self-loathing and doubt. He knew his own forces were susceptible, but he needed time, Skye had to be crushed, all else was secondary, mere sacrifices the altar of his glory. Some dropped their weapons and out right fled, as their own fears began attacking them. Others began babbling incoherently to their comrades about their worst fears, un-steadied and un-moored from sense. Still others began to blast at creatures visible only to them. The effect might even reach the pilots of the closing gunships. The full effect of the technique diminished at range, but it still was enough to make them double check their targets causing uncertainty and distraction. Kern hadn't mastered the summon fear technique, so the effect on most would be momentary, perhaps a minute or two, but enough for Him time to finish Skye, of this he was certain. He turned back to search his former master, moving back into the central hall of the lobby, with carnage and vengeance on his mind. "Come Skye... I have a gift for you." He said confidently as he stocked his prey though the darkened lobby once more. (part 2 of 3) --- The Sith pilot saw the plan evaporate in front of his eyes, the skilled veteran knew that there wouldn't be any chance once the gunships honed in, the ship wouldn't be able to withstand that sort of pounding. Something had to be done it was then he noticed Coresec shooting despite the civilian hostages. This was shocking. Even in the depths of war, soldiers wouldn't open fire if it was possible civilian targets could be harmed, such would be considered a war crime. He had sworn his life to the Sith, but even would hesitate to carryout such an order. Here those who were charged with protecting the public and yet they acted without any thought or independence. Still if this was their resolve...Activating his comm panel in the shuttle, he sent a single line of Keshiri text to all available receivers in the area. "Shuttle Alpha in jeopardy! Extraction Cancelled! Hostages not effective! Move to Secondary Extraction point," He turned the throttle on full, preparing to escape. Pulling back on the main yoke the ship gained a few meters of altitude. The pilot began an old trick he'd learned back in- Suddenly a wave of fear struck him, in his mind he saw a large mass of tentacles reaching for his face, massive suckers attached too his forehead and began to suck the life directly from his body, he screamed in fear and the old veteran froze, his aged mind lost in his deepest fear. He had to get it off, somehow, someway, and he ignored the flashing indicators on his control panel. Unfortunately for the pilot, this was the precise moment the ground forces decided to open up, in completely disregard for any collateral damage. The small unarmed ships' main drive splayed open and exploded under direct heavy fire. The massive explosion rocketed through the entire floor of the hospital adjacent it, taking most of the 52nd and 51st floor with it. There had been no evacuation, no thought or concern given to any innocent lives, and so scores of patients, nurses and doctors along with huddling families were incinerated in the blast, and the resulting wreckage began the long plunge downwards. All of it, the shuttles destruction, the burning bodies of still living humanoids trying to escape the horrific carnage, was captured on camera, their screams slowly dying as the blaze raged. The building itself shuddered, but remained upright, as the fire spread, fire suppression systems now offline in the affected portions. L'thara cowered behind a nurses station on the 50th floor, cursing loudly as her mind was filled with the images of her punishment at the hands of her brutal mother. A large leather strap descended upon her over and over, as the skin was stripped from her flesh. She nearly screamed as she rocked back and forth feeling despair throttle her once confident form their escape was aborted and another of her Keshiri brethren took a head shot and plummeted from view. The floor above her buckled, and a second later L'shara was mostly crushed under a half ton of flaming durasteel and debris. Her last thoughts were of home and horror, here on a planet so far from her own. --- The roof battle did not go well. U'mbaro couldn't try as he might, get a shot on the demons closing in on him. The collective fire of the small pale beings who Kern had directed them to kill was beginning to make killing them harder. Then two grenades sliced through H'nek and T'zar. H'nek's head came clean off his shoulders. But T'jar despite being heavily injured, propped himself up and continued his fire. The gunship then lowered away from the roof, leaving the still lethal demons firing upon them. His patience nearly exhausted, the massive Keshiri decided one last move to prove his worthiness to Kern. He yelled for the other Keshiri to continue firing. Grabbing up body of one of his fallen Keshiri brethern, U'mbaro charged foward using the man's body as a shield. As he closed the gap in between himself and the three remaining puny humanoids, he let out a savage roar. He smashed the first armored demon with the heavy body, sending the man over the edge and to certain death. Grabbing the second, the nearly eight foot tall being pulled him from his feet, raising him into the air and brought him down on his shoulder with a sickening crunch. The man's back was broken, and U'mbaro discarded him with a victorious roar. The two other remaining Keshiri gave the same cry, in response, they had defeated the demons, proven themselves- It was then that he felt it, a wave of fear that came like a crippling blow. U'mbaro looked up to see a pantheon of demon's all with massive black eyes, and cruel faces, each of them reaching down to squash him. He was a small child again, cowering from something he couldn't find, he fled, abandoning comrades who also had begun to see their own nightmares splayed out in front of them. The large man nearly tumbled down the stairs as he sought a hiding place to steady himself.
  15. “Fynn Relmis! Put him down and face me like the man you claim you are! But that’s it isn’t it, you are not that man any longer, are you? … You became the thing you never wanted to become - a Sith. Just what name do you go by now anyhow? Lord ‘I’m a big bad Sith' or what?” Kern stiffened as she used the name again dropping the man's unconscious form. The mere mention of that sniveling weakling, and his mind surged with fresh rage. Kern reached into his tunic and brought out his main blade, the 'Krayt'. He activated it with little flair, and the deep red blades' glow cut through the dark lobby with a furnace like glow. He detached his half cape, letting it flutter to the ground, Kern then held his weapon forward, aiming the point towards Skye's smaller form meters away as he responded. "Fool... I told you already. Your boy is dead. I killed him, sliced off his head, crawled inside, and ate his flesh as the hunter does his prey", he stopped in his tracks and looked at her with pure rage as more beast then living man. He took a moment and noticed the two camera's in the lobby. Reaching out he stripped both camera's from their mounts, and crushed them with authority. He would have no recordings of his new style of fighting to give others an advantage in facing him. He would smote 'Master' Skye, and show the failing Jedi that their time was truly done. The so called knights and padawans would see the futility of Skye and her defeat would fully usher him into the order of the Sith. No more a bastard student of the darkside would he be. "When I'm squeezing the last ounce of your so called 'life' from your corpse, I will give you my name." Kern said issuing a final promise, as he prepared his first strike. He could feel her trying to draw on the light to steady herself. This he could not allow, he had to unbalance her, to strike at her equilibrium, find something... anything...He needed her thoughts to be weak. "If only your god consort were here to watch you suffer. Then again, maybe you just didn't appeal to him anymore... but hey... a god's gotta do, what a god's gotta do." He said derisively, a hint of sexual perversion carried by his thoughts and mental images, twisting the knife just that much more. "Now, no more talk 'healer'!" Kern spat as he approach her aggressively, channeling his pent up rage into his first few strikes. His vertical and horizontal attacks were fierce and powerful, years of training and combat from the most powerful champion on Kesh had taught him to focus on his opponents vital zones, the neck, the mid section, the legs, each strike came with a quick follow, the pattern and pace of his strikes were the antithesis of the defensive style that Skye would remember from his former self. Know his style was of one determined to extract a penalty for anyone trying to hold him back. He was no weakling fallen Jedi struggling to prove his superiority, but rather a seasoned killer who had reveled in weakening his opponents in prolonged combat. Each strike was meant to go through her, not simply test her responses. The only truth is darkness, the only path pain, all else are lies and deceit! Here in the midst of a place of pain and despair, as patients in upper and lower wards lay in agony, desperate pain, and hopelessness, the dark side was strong. Kern feasted on it, his every thought concentrating on ending his hapless master with it's aid, he would sap the light from her presence. His each thought was of revenge, with each strike, his will to dominate grew stronger. The red blade sliced and hacked against hers, the crash sending off sparks as the crystal of her saber struggled to keep his powerful blade at bay. The darkened room lit up, as clash upon clash sent ribbons of brilliant light in all directions. Kern kept up his fierce attacks, spinning, diving, jumping and twisting each sortie with only the occasional momentary pause. This was no test, no delicate confrontation, this was a fight that had been coming since the first moment of Kern's emergence in the bowel's of Coruscant. The moment Kern had been unleashed upon the galaxy, he had been a guided weapon, an ever growing dagger of darkness to the heart of his old master, whose time would finally come to an end. Kern would end her, and with her the Jedi's primary healer and their sense of hope. All those years under your thumb, all those years wasted listening to your tainted pablum... each mental word came with it's own sting, each one came with a powerful strike towards her. Kern brought to bare all of the loathing and disgust he had for the lies and shame his former 'teacher' had foisted upon him. He reveled in each attack, savoring each sinew of muscle she used in response, as he kept up the varied blows, he bore down and finally broke through her initial defense, tagging her hip with a singeing graze that burnt through her tunic and seared flesh. He capitalized on the break through and used the momentary distraction to bring a heavy force push to her midsection, attempting with all of his rage to violently shove her body backwards through a nearby live glass information panel. Your end is inevitable, I will destroy you just as I did Fynn, and then all shall know your lies! He screamed through the force, the dark side giving weight to his mental voice. She would feel his dominating will, the true will of the Dark side. (1 of 3 Dueling posts)
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